


Raising Warlock

by Phoenix_Rose



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is a mess, But the relationship is real, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fake Marriage, Ineffable Husbands are a Mess, M/M, nanny ashtoreth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-07-29 17:36:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Rose/pseuds/Phoenix_Rose
Summary: “Ah,” he heard Aziraphale say, “please hold!"Crowley opened his eyes and frowned.  “Angel?”“It’s Mrs Dowling,” he hissed.“What?”  He sat upright, took off his glasses to stare at Aziraphale, and blessed under his breath.  “What does she want?”“Nanny Ashtoreth,” he said mournfully.  “They’re coming back to England and Warlock is apparently demanding you.”“Of course he is,” he sighed.  “Little brat.”“Yes, well, what are you going to do about it?”





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley hummed as Aziraphale ran his fingers through his hair. The feeling of his fingers scratching his scalp was… Well, one might call it divine[1]. He’d grown it out for this _ particular _ reason. Even in Eden, he’d noticed the angel looking longingly at it and deciding not to touch. But now, post-Armagedon’t, Aziraphale would start stroking it any time Crowley put his head in his lap.

He smiled up into his angel’s face through half-lidded eyes. The sun shone out and framed his face from behind with golden light, like his halo that he never showed on Earth[2]. He felt distinctly sleepy and perfectly content.

“Alright there, my darling?” Aziraphale whispered.

“Huh?” He blinked as the words filtered through. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine, Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and took Crowley’s glasses from him, putting next to them on the blanket. He bent down and kissed him sweetly on the lips, before sitting straight again and continuing to stroke his hair. Crowley thought he might discorporate right there and then, but he held on, breathing deeply, smiling tiredly.

The Them exchanged looks and gagged in unison. Anathema giggled behind her hand. Crowley saw Aziraphale huff, his eyes twinkling. “Love is a perfectly natural and incredibly important part of life, my dears,” he said. He straightened his bowtie and said, “There’s nothing wrong with expressing it.”

Crowley hummed in agreement - or, at least, he hummed. He reached blindly upwards and took one of Aziraphale’s hands from his tie, holding it against his chest, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“You sound like my mum,” Pepper said. Crowley could imagine the face she was pulling and laughed softly. He ran his fingers over the ring on Aziraphale’s middle finger. It was shaped like wings, with rounded corners. He couldn’t remember when Aziraphale had got it[3], but he liked it. It was familiar, comforting.

“You should get married,” Adam said suddenly. “That’s what you’re s’posed to do when you’re in love.”

Crowley’s eyes shot open as Aziraphale choked on air. “I’m not sure-” Aziraphale started.

“I don’t think two men can get married…” Brian said.

“Actually,” Wensleydale said, pushing up his glasses, “they can. Just not in a church.”

“Oh,” he said, picking at grass, getting mud deep under his fingernails. “Guess you can, then.”

Crowley reached for his glasses and slipped them back on. _Marriage_. He’d never thought of it before. Why would he have? An angel and a demon - not really what you’d call the marrying type. Still… It was an interesting thought. He’d wear a dress, _obviously_[4] . Black. Did they sell black wedding dresses? If they didn’t, he could always miracle one up. And Aziraphale would have to be in white because he looked odd in black - or like a magician, which he’d probably like, but Crowley _ refused _to let him dress like a magician at their wedding. Hypothetical wedding.

Or maybe not white. He wore that in Heaven, and the _ last _thing they’d need was a reminder of Heaven. Cream would be better. But not tartan.

It couldn’t be in a church unless he felt like hopping up and down for the whole ceremony. Of course, that’d be a good way to liven things up, but it’d hurt like He- _ Somewhere _.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he sighed. “Angel?”

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale sounded relieved at the distraction - evidently, the conversation had continued after he’d drifted off.

“Would you get that?”

“Of course. Where is it?”

“Coat pocket.”

Aziraphale patted around until he found it and Crowley settled back again. Maybe a church wedding would be acceptable, so long as it was quick. They were prettier. Lots of flowers - oh, flowers. He could grow a bouquet by himself, no problem, though they’d need a lot of discipline[5] . The more important part would be the reception - Aziraphale would _ love _that. A wedding cake, a full menu to design… Crowley smiled at the thought. And there’d be dancing. He’d have to keep him from doing a one-man gavotte, but they could hold hands and spin around well enough. Would Queen work as music for the first dance? Maybe. Probably. Or maybe he should find something different and remember not to leave it in the Bentley.

“Ah,” he heard Aziraphale say, “please hold!”[6]

Crowley opened his eyes and frowned. “Angel?”

“It’s Mrs Dowling,” he hissed.

“What?” He sat upright, took off his glasses to stare at Aziraphale, and blessed under his breath. “What does she want?”

“Nanny Ashtoreth,” he said mournfully. “They’re coming back to England and Warlock is apparently demanding you.”

“Of course he is,” he sighed. “Little brat.”

“Yes, well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Who’s Warlock?” broke in Anathema.

“We thought he was the antichrist,” Aziraphale explained quickly, “because _ someone _ got the babies mixed up. Anyhow, we went and oversaw his upbringing to try and keep him neutral so he wouldn’t destroy the earth, but - _ well _, we all know how that went.”

Crowley rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Do they want Brother Francis back?” He hoped not. As much as he loved Aziraphale, he did _ not _ love watching him garden. The way he treated the roses was _ criminal _. He spoiled them rotten. He didn’t discipline them at all.

“No, I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said mildly. He wrapped an arm around Crowley’s waist and didn’t even seem to notice how he red he flushed[7]. “Anyway, darling, you need to decide quickly, because she’s waiting for an answer.”

“Right.” He held out his hand for the phone and tried to remember how Nanny Ashtoreth spoke.

“May I ask who’s speaking?” No - damn it. Hopefully, she’d chalk it up to the phone making him sound funny.

“Ah, Ms Ashtoreth, Harriet Dowling here. We’re coming back to England next week, and we need you back to help with Warlock.”

“Ah, of course,” he said. Yes, _ that _was the voice. “He’s a sweet young boy. I’d be glad to help.”

“Good. We’ll be back next week. Will you be here on Monday?”

“Of course.” He was already remembering how entitled the Dowlings were. He took a silent breath through his nose.

“We’ll see you then,” she said. And then, as an afterthought: “Oh, do you mind me asking, who was that man who answered the phone?”

“Ah.” He breathed. “That was…” _ Bugger _ . He had to think of something, and quickly. Very quickly. “My husband,” he burst out suddenly. He blushed beet red and cradled his face in one hand. His _ husband _ \- great job, Crowley. Brilliant job. Absolutely tip-fucking-top. _ This _ was what he got for thinking about weddings.

“Oh,” Mrs Dowling breathed, “you got married! That’s lovely! You’ve got to bring him to meet us - I’m sure Warlock will love him.”

“I-”

“I’ve gotta run. See you on Monday!”

He looked at the Them, staring at him, and Anathema’s raised eyebrow, and a rather shell-shocked Aziraphale, and closed his eyes. _Bugger_.


	2. THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry

I'm sorry if you were waiting for an update - honestly, I'm sorry anyway. I know I just dropped out of existence, which I promise I didn't mean to, and... this isn't me coming back. A-Levels and college are really kicking my arse and. I am. Tired.

SO! If we were in the middle of a conversation and I just stopped replying, I am incredibly sorry, and I really hope we're still friends.

If you're waiting for a story update, I'm working on it, but very slowly. _Very _slowly.

I am coming back, that I'm certain of, but I'm not sure when I'll be active again. I guess... just hang in there? I'm hoping life will calm down after my first set of mock exams, but I have zero evidence to support that theory. If not, I finish my exams in June or July 2020?? (Lol, I'm sure I'll publish something before then.)

In conclusion, I'm terribly sorry, I hope you can all forgive me, and I'll be with you as soon as possible.

Until then,

Phoenix xxx

**Author's Note:**

> 1Crowley wouldn’t. Absolutely not.[return to text]
> 
> 2_Rarely_ showed on Earth. He would occasionally allow it to be used as a night light if one of the visiting Them requested it.[return to text]
> 
> 3He’d actually arrived in Eden with it and hadn’t taken it off for longer than it took to bathe since.[return to text]
> 
> 4He _liked_ dresses, and he didn’t often get the chance to wear a formal one. Technically speaking, he could probably wear one to the Ritz, but he’d never really felt like it.[return to text]
> 
> 5And to be kept away from Aziraphale, who’d undo all the hard work.[return to text]  
  
6If Mr and Mrs Young had been around, they might have recognised a frightened voice yelping, “Sorry - right number!”[return to text]
> 
> 7He did notice, but thought Crowley might prefer him not to mention it.[return to text]


End file.
